


Song of the Dead

by MultiVerSonalityDisorder



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Drama, Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Film, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiVerSonalityDisorder/pseuds/MultiVerSonalityDisorder
Summary: Born on the hour of the official start of Día de Muertos, Carmina Rivera grows up with the ability to see and even touch the deceased.





	1. Seven Years

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my attempt at a longer Coco fan fiction. I hope it goes well, and for previous readers I'm going to start back on my older stories soon. I swear I'll do my best as my busy days are coming to an end.
> 
> First chapter is a prologue for the rest of the story to introduce Miguel's wife and for me to practice a bit with the deceased Rivera family.
> 
> I apologize for anything incorrect in terms of the Spanish as it is not my native language. Please feel free to correct me or give me tips/pointers on any aspect of this fiction.
> 
> Obviously I don't own any property concerning the film Coco.
> 
> Thank you. :)

It was the seventh time that Héctor was able to cross over when he saw it. And, he wasn’t the only one. Miguel was nineteen now. A young man, tall and thin; much like his great-great-grandfather, Imelda thought. Some of his hair was in his eyes, but it wasn’t too long, and his facial hair was left as a small tuft at the end of his chin. This Día de Muertos was special, though. Very special. Because she was there.

“What’s her name?” Héctor prodded Imelda curiously as they took in the sight. She was a young woman. Long dark hair held up in a bun with a few loose sections to cover the frame of her round face. Her eyes were bright as she smiled, helping Carmen, Elena and Luisa with the table while Gloria was bringing out the food bit by bit. Her skirt was low to her ankles, flowing freely with a color close to the petals on the ground. Her blouse a fading violet where the ruffled collar tickled her neck. The most important thing to note was the ring on her finger, on her left hand, a small twinkling stone atop. “Imelda?”

“I don’t know, Héctor,” she hissed softly as she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow to calm her energetic husband. It was a light tap, but it got him to stand still for a moment in silence.

“Ah, that’s little Elvita,” Coco explained to her parents with bright eyes and a warm smile.

“Elvita?” Héctor turned to his daughter quizzically. “You know her, _mija_?”

Coco nodded, “She’s an older girl who went to Miguel’s school. Her family were loyal customers to the business before they were born. She’s a smart girl, tough, _un poco abrasiva_ , but a good girl all the same.”

“You don’t think,” Óscar popped in between Héctor and Imelda with his twin following closely behind.

“…that they’re engaged, do you?”

That was what Héctor was thinking as soon as he saw that ring, but before he could say anything, Rosita added onto the conversation with a cheerful sigh, “I can’t imagine there being any other reason as to why she’d be here on Día de Muertos. On such a special day for families.”

“Miguel probably wants us to meet her,” Victoria added with a pleased smile on her skeletal lips.

“She seems like a lovely young woman,” Julio held Coco’s hand with a warm smile and light in his eye. He remembered meeting a younger Socorro, how they fell for one another, the excitement of their own engagement. Coco returned the expression, leaning her head on his shoulder and his cheek bone resting in turn atop her crown.

Observing this, it reminded Héctor of what he missed out on, and even now he struggled with that reality. Even though none of it was his fault, he still struggled. Though, he looked forward to the future. He tried so hard to, though it wasn’t too difficult when his grandson was so full of life and promises. He was constantly reminding himself that Coco had found love and happiness of her own, that she had a husband who treated her well and adored her. As a father, that was all he could have really asked, he supposed. The musician glanced to Imelda and she coyly slipped her boney fingers through his, interlacing them.

Héctor’s undead heart skipped as he felt his cheek bones heat up. Their engagement and their marriage was so rushed, that at first they had wondered if doing so was a mistake, but now they see it was the best decision they ever made. Doing what they did allowed their family some happy memories before the tragedy that had been thrust upon them by Ernesto. Now, Miguel was engaged at an equally early age. Things were different in the modern time, though. So, hopefully the two young adults will pace themselves and enjoy each other while they can. Héctor snorted to himself, thinking about how Miguel was so like him it was almost scary.

Their builds were similar, they both adored music, and it seems they preferred the company of more mature women. There was a bark that snapped through the silence of his thought. Dante was butting his head into Miguel’s knee while the young man had joined Elvita’s side, a hand on the small of her back. The nineteen year old chuckled at the canine, who then gently did the same to Elvita’s knee. The group of spiritual onlookers watched with almost baited breath.

“Does that mean he likes me?” Elvita chuckled warmly with a smooth voice, light. She bent down and Dante allowed her to rub her palms along the sides of his neck and under his chin.

“I hope so,” Miguel admitted almost sheepishly while he joined her, crouched down to scratch the top of the dog’s crown. “I guess he sees you as part of the family now.” His eyes unconsciously glanced around. The passed Riveras had noticed this from time to time. The lingering connection the man had with them when he was a boy. He yearned to see them again, and sometimes it felt like he could, but it was not to be. He would have to grow old and die – hopefully peacefully – before their reunion could take place. They were all fine with that.

For the most part. Héctor dreamed of the day he could play with Miguel once again, and the younger man shared that dream. The memories of that stage in the Land of the Dead would have to tide them over until then, it would seem.

When it was evident to Miguel that he would not be able to see his family, yet again, his expression fell for but a moment before he smiled at Dante with bright eyes, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure everyone has accepted you.” He looked to her, pecked her cheek, then whispered something into her ear that made her gasp and laugh nervously.

She gently tapped his chest with the back of her hand, “Don’t be so _sensiblero_ _muchacho_.” She pecked his lips anyway, “You’ll make it hard for me to pay attention to anyone else tonight.”

Imelda gave Héctor a look, somehow blaming him for what they just witnessed. Her husband shook his head, waving her off silently. Okay, maybe he _was_ a bit too much like Héctor.

Miguel chuckled, placing another kiss to her cheek before her lips, then helping her up, “Coco and Julieta were looking for you. I told them I’d drag you back into the house.”

“All right,” Elvita smiled, turning with him to get back inside. “ _Tus hermanitas son adorables_.”

Almost immediately, the Rivera family dispersed back to their own business. Only Héctor and Imelda remained in their spot for more than a minute longer. Their hands squeezed tightly, and while the mood quickly fell somber, Héctor was equally quick at sweeping his wife into a spin before leading her into some dance steps. Instead of anger, Imelda’s nerves bubbled into laughter, and the rest of the night was celebrated. Their family was celebrated.

**-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- As I was expanding the Rivera family for future scenes, I came across the idea of giving Miguel one additional younger sister: Julieta. She's three years younger than Socorro, so about fifteen years younger than Miguel.


	2. On the Dot

“Carmina,” a voice sang with cooing affection.

“Héctor,” Imelda sighed, “you know she can’t hear you.”

“I know, _mi vida_ , but I can’t help it,” the skeletal man stood up straight with a sigh as he gestured to the babe. “She is just _tan preciosa_.”

It was three years since Elvita became engaged to Miguel, two years since they married, and one year since their daughter – Carmina – was born. To the day. Carmina’s first breath was taken the very moment the first chime sounded for the beginning of Día de Muertos. The previous year had worried the visiting Riveras. They were shocked that Miguel, Evita, and his parents weren’t anywhere to be seen, but it was quickly explained by the chatter of the remaining Riveras that a baby was coming. The deceased hadn’t had an opportunity to even know that Elvita was pregnant, so the news was an almost overwhelming elated surprise. Now, the newest addition was round with large wide eyes that were taking in everything they could.

Carmina – as they caught her name from the rest – had dark curls atop her head, and was fit into a violet ruffle dress. She was being carried by her father, who adored her in a way no one had seen him adore anything; or, anyone else.

Héctor fell in love with her immediately. From her name to her tiny nose, he couldn’t help but be captivated by his great-great-great-granddaughter. It wasn’t even as though she was his first, either. Abel had married a woman named Paulina and the two had a daughter of their own: Ana, who was six years old at this time. Imelda and the rest of the Riveras knew it was Héctor’s favoritism of Miguel that caused it. They were all so used to seeing the additions to the family, though they loved each and every one of them with just as much excitement as the next. The first year the family saw little Ana, Héctor had released the loudest grito.

Now, the man’s actual connection to the great-great-grandson he had met and bonded with had influenced his ecstatic enthusiasm over Carmina. Imelda didn’t say a word about it, and neither did the others as they all understood what was going on in the musician’s head.

“Imelda, _mira, mira!_ ” her husband waved to her from across the courtyard later that evening. “It’s like she can see me! _¡Aquí!_ ”

The shoemaker sighed. She smiled to her family who held back weary chuckles at the patriarch’s reaction. Of course it was all impossible. They had to remind him plenty of time his first two visits, and he had eventually grasped that they were unheard and unseen by the living. Little Carmina made him completely forget all of this, it seemed. Imelda soon joined him a few feet behind Miguel, where the young man was talking with Abel and discussing parenting styles as well as their marriages. It gave Imelda a warm feeling to see the two treating each other as respectful adults, especially Abel who had a tendency of putting his foot in his mouth in his younger years.

Carmina was looking over her father’s shoulder, sucking on the back of her hand as she blinked in the direction of her deceased predecessors. She gave a small wiggle of her body and a gurgle around her hand.

Héctor beamed, “She’s reacting to us!”

His wife sighed, trying to hold back harsh words that would put a stop to his excitement, “Héctor…”

“No, no, no, watch,” the musician nearly begged, and the matriarch relented without another word. Still thrilled, he turned back to face Carmina. His voice held warm affection as he spoke to the infant, “ _Hola, Carmina_. I’m your Papá Héctor.” He waved to her and she giggled.

Imelda was surprised, but when her husband looked to her expectantly she tried to warn him of the reality, “She could have seen something behind us.” She looked over her shoulder and gestured, “Dante just walked by.”

“Imelda,” Héctor tried to keep his calm, especially if the babe really could see them. He didn’t want to upset the poor little niña. He held his wife’s hand and her eyes lowered. A part of her worried that perhaps he would try to view Carmina as Coco. As the daughter he never got to see grow, never got to bond with during her most critical years. “Imelda, _mi amor_ ,” he crouched somewhat so he could catch her eyes. Without asking, he gently peppered her cheek with soft kisses that had her gingerly pressing on his shoulder.

“You are _ridículo_ ,” she murmured softly with a soft turn of her mouth. “I hope you know that.”

“You remind me every day, _mi dulce esposa_ ,” he chuckled in return of her pseudo-insult. “Now, watch, _por favor_?”

“ _Sí_ ,”Imelda waved at him. “Go on. I can’t stop you, anyway.”

Energy renewed, Héctor went back to entertaining his granddaughter. Watching created a small ache in her chest. Even if he hadn’t planned on viewing her as another Socorro, maybe she wanted to watch him be the father she remembered him being? Maybe it hurt her to remember the first years of their family, of the music, of the laughter, of the dancing and singing. How Héctor always found a way to mention Coco in every conversation he had with every person in town. How no matter how little sleep he got he never lost his temper with them. How he stuck by her side and did his best to make her comfortable throughout her pregnancy and even after. How he comforted her on her worries on her self-image after giving birth, and sincerely meant it.

He had loved them so much…that’s why it hurt so badly when he vanished. Even the town never saw that coming. It boggled everyone, but she…

“Your Mamá Imelda and I are so happy to meet you, _mija_ ,” she heard him saying, snapping her from her spiraling thoughts. “You are the loveliest surprise we’ve had in a long, long time.” He extended a hand out, fingers stretching as he made to keep her attention. “And, we get to celebrate your _cumpleaños_ with you, too! I hope your Papá got you something _maravilloso_.” As his fingers got unconsciously closer, his brain hadn’t registered the fact that Carmina had stopped suckling on her pudgy flesh. When it hit him that she was reaching out back to him, he didn’t think much of it. Sure, she could see them, but she couldn’t-

“Héctor!” Imelda gasped and his eyes widened.

Carmina’s tiny fingers were wrapped around his skeletal finger. The matriarch’s cry had caught the attention of the rest and they all stood there in shock; one of the twins lost their jaw to the floor. Their granddaughter was smiling as her petite digits flexed around his dead appendage, and the musician couldn’t help but smile; completely melt at the lively feeling. It had been over a century since he felt the connection to such a young kin, and if he could, he would have been crying. Yes. She did remind him of his few years with Coco. He couldn’t deny that.

He couldn’t _not_ see himself in Miguel. However, it was still very clear to him that Miguel _wasn’t_ him, and that this baby was his great-great-great-granddaughter _Carmina_. She was not his Coco, and even though he missed out on her upbringing, he wouldn’t trade who she became at the end for the world. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and his Socorro was smiling at him when he met her gaze. Without a word, she reached out and gently caressed the baby’s cheek. It was strange to see their bones not go through her solid warm body. She didn’t seem to mind, though.

The deceased Riveras were new sights, and it was a relief at all that she wasn’t frightened by them. That she wasn’t afraid to touch them. However, a heaviness settled in Héctor’s stomach. Suddenly, fears of her interacting with deceased strangers filled him. He was able to slip his finger from her grasp, and with a bitter smile he leaned in to place a kiss to her forehead. He stepped back, looking to his astonished wife and taking her hand.

“We have to go back,” he said.

* * *

 

“Well, it’s not a curse,” the clerk stated simply as he flipped through some files.

“Then, what is it?” Imelda pressed as she stood in front of the desk with her arms crossed in front of her chest, Héctor leaning atop the wood surface with his palms firmly placed. The two had come alone, insisting to the other Riveras to finish the night and they would meet them back at home.

Still flipping through a few pages, the clerk answered, “Ah, it seems she was born on Día de Muertos?”

“ _Sí_ ,” the couple answered simultaneously.

Finger sliding down a page, the short skeleton continued, “And, it seems her time of birth is on the exact minute that Día de Muertos starts.” He clapped the thin file shut, “She’s not cursed, though I wouldn’t say she’s blessed.”

“ _Amigo_ ,” Héctor drawled, sounding exhausted, “tell us what’s going on with our _nieta_.”

The clerk sighed, “To explain, had she been simply born on Día de Muertos at most she would just be…sensitive to the dead. She might be able to feel our presence, but nothing more than that. However, there is a rare occurrence where a child may be born at the exact moment the gates between the dead and the living drop, _por así decirlo_. It happens to _maybe_ a dozen children per century. At most. They’re sort of caught in an eternal limbo.” He waved his hands to stress his next words, “They’re very much alive, but they can interact with the dead. Touching and talking with us as if we were as alive as they are. And, just as you fear, this means _any_ of the deceased.”

Héctor’s shoulders drooped. He was so elated earlier over the fact that he could interact with that little girl, and now her life may be in danger. While he was sure Ernesto wouldn’t be imprudent enough to cross the bridge and bother his living family, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t send someone after them. Despite the truth that was revealed throughout the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Living, there were still people who looked up to Ernesto, who still believed in him.

“Look,” the clerk insisted softly, “this must be kept within your family. It’s recorded automatically in our files, but I’m not allowed to tell another soul even if I wanted to. Your privacy is very important to us, and the well-being of the living is at the top of our priorities. Don’t tell anyone about this, act normally next Día de Muertos, and most importantly _do not_ interact with her.”

That struck a chord within Héctor, “ _Espere_. She can see us. Do we act like we can’t see her? Do we ignore her?”

“ _Sí.”_

“I…I don’t know if I can do that.”

“We’ll have to,” Imelda asserted softly to her husband, a shaking hand rubbing his tense shoulder.

“Aside from any threats from this side,” the clerk added, “interacting with a living person, especially a child, could do damage to them growing up. Past cases…rarely ended up happily.”

“What do you mean?” the musician pushed, worry growing from his stomach to his chest cavity.

Removing his glasses and cleaning them with a sigh, the other man placed them back on the bridge of his nose as he continued, “Back in the earlier days, _much earlier_ , there were problems of people misconstruing the notion of interacting with the dead as _evil_. The children or young adults that wouldn’t hide their connection with the dead, or were found out sometimes met with ostracization, and the others…well…they were met with not so pleasant endings.” There was a solemn moment as the two Riveras took in that information. It gradually sunk in and the idea made them feel even sicker than before. “However, things are different, for the most part. Times have changed, though instead of…well… _those_ types of endings, communities started putting these people in asylums, or sometimes their family members would lock them away until the end of their days. Sometimes, you get the ones who long to join the dead. Perhaps they want to join their deceased family, friends, lovers, or even strangers they happen to meet on Día de Muertos. The idea of ‘living’ on this side becomes a fantasy for them, and so they’ll take their own lives as they are no longer afraid of death.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Héctor snapped, standing upright and walking away with hands on his hips. He heaved a sigh, head falling and face landing in a palm as he rubbed his brows. “ _Mierda_.”

“This is difficult, I understand,” the clerk spoke up softly. “We can’t force you to do anything in this case as it technically rests outside of our jurisdiction. We can only offer you advice.”

“ _Gracías_ ,” Imelda sighed, looking to the man on the other side of the desk before she walked over to her husband. She rubbed his shoulder once more, comfortingly, “Let’s go back home, _amor_. We have a whole year to decide on what to do. We’ll wait for everyone at home and tell them when they get back.”

It took a solid moment of silence before Héctor gave in. His body slumping as the life seemed to be sapped out of him. He looked to his wife, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her in close and pressed his lips to her forehead. Why did these things continue to happen to his family? Were they just a doomed bloodline? He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he wasn’t sure he could without losing his mind completely. He exhaled quietly, squeezing Imelda close, “ _Sí_. Let’s go home.”

**-**


	3. Not This Year

Every year the deceased Riveras looked forward to their visit on Día de Muertos. They always enjoyed the time spent with their family; even if it was a bit one-sided. However, this visit was nerve-wracking. For most of the year no one had mentioned what they were all going to do with Carmina’s situation. The thought of ignoring the child was difficult for more than just the one reason. Yes, it felt cruel to not acknowledge her when none of it was her fault. There was also the fact that they were all (excluding Héctor) shoemakers, not actors! No one felt confident in being able to pull off indifference while their granddaughter and niece tried to interact with them.

It wasn’t until two nights before Día de Muertos that Héctor spoke up. It was in the middle of dinner and he held a stony expression as he blurted, “Maybe she’ll be afraid of us this year. Maybe she won’t want to believe we’re real.”

Several hearts sank at the patriarch’s words. None of them wanted that. None of them wanted any of what was happening, or going to happen. The future was so uncertain and having to be responsible for Carmina’s well-being in a way her living family couldn’t understand was challenging.

“What if we skip this year?” Victoria suggested softly.

This led to a few gasps from her uncles, father, and aunt.

“Victoria,” Julio was nearly speechless from his daughter’s words, “w-we can’t do that.”

“Of course we can,” she insisted, looking to both of her grandparents. Héctor seemed so uncertain while Imelda merely looked taken aback. “We don’t _have_ to cross over. They’ll never know either way. We’re still being remembered. Going is a choice completely of our own.”

“You’re forgetting that it’s a matter of respect, Victoria,” Felipe reminded his grandniece.

“ _Es verdad_ ,” Coco chimed, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Our _familia_ works so hard to make the night special for us. They do their best to make us happy even though they have no proof of it happening, _mija_.”

“We owe it to them to go,” Rosita added quickly at the end of her sister-in-law’s words.

Imelda sighed, placing her fork down and stating, “Día de Muertos is about family. Family comes first.”

“ _Sí!”_

“And, that’s why we must go,” Oscar insisted with a nod of finality, making his brother roll his eyes despite agreeing with him.

“No,” was the strong single syllable that left Imelda’s lips.

Victoria rose a brow at her grandmother, intrigued by the possibility that the matriarch was agreeing with her after all.

“ _¿Qué?_ ” Oscar and Felipe blinked at Imelda in shock.

“Mamá,” Coco’s face fell at her mother’s demeanor and tone.

“She,” Héctor spoke hesitantly, not looking at his wife or family, simply his plate, “She may be right, _mija_.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Oscar nearly sputtered. “Why would you say that?”

“Because family comes first,” Imelda reiterated. “Right now, we have a _niña_ whose future relies on us doing what we’re supposed to. What we need to do to make sure she’s safe. We can’t put our wants in front of that.” She sighed once more, seeming exhausted, “This year…we will not cross the bridge.”

The room fell silent. Nobody was expecting Imelda to make such a decision, though perhaps it wasn’t exactly out of her nature. She did ban music from entering the life of her family for nearly a century.

Only Héctor could see the trembling in his wife’s hand. He tenderly took it, squeezing and noticed her shoulders lose some of their tension. “I agree,” he declared solemnly.

Nobody else in the room knew what to say, but they also didn’t have an argument to counter Imelda’s position. They had already lived their lives. They shouldn’t be imposing their wants over how their presence will affect that little girl’s life.

That year the Riveras stayed home.

* * *

It was quiet when Día de Muertos came. Most had forced themselves to their rooms early. Coco had stayed up with Julio to discuss their feelings on this decision. The twins were working silently on small personal projects to keep themselves busy. Rosita and Victoria were the only two that were actually able to sleep as they had been too busy the night previously worrying about the upcoming emotional hurdle. Héctor and Imelda didn’t even look at each other as they went to bed. Neither were proud of their decision, but they wanted to do what was best for Carmina.

It seemed like time was dragging that night. Héctor looked at the clock and sighed heavily to see that it was barely nine. He rolled over, glancing at Imelda who seemed to be having better luck with her rest than he was. His eyes rolled to the ceiling and he rubbed his boney palms over his face. He felt sick and his chest was hurting. This was for the best. It had to be.

If she saw them, then who knows what could happen. If she tried to touch them? No, it was better that she not know. As long as they stayed away, at least until she was much older, she could lead a normal life. Wait. Héctor’s eyes shot open. Even if they did stay away there was still the problem that she could see every dead person. So, if her family took her out to the graves to pay their respects…she’d still see them! Héctor shot up and slipped hurriedly out of bed.

He grabbed for his clothes, wrestling with them in his haste when he heard a sigh, “You can’t stay can you, Héctor?”

The musician’s eyes darted to his wife as he shrugged his vest on, “ _Lo siento, mi amor_.” His voice was hushed when he worked on getting his shoes onto his feet, “I can’t leave her alone. What if someone from this side gets an idea? Miguel won’t know to protect her. If something happens to our _nieta_ I’ll never forgive myself.”

Sitting up, she replied, “And, if she sees you?”

“I’ll think of something,” he was almost a bit snippy in his reply after finishing with his laces. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He turned his gaze to her, eyes drained of energy as he walked over, sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – ”

“I know,” Imelda slipped one hand from his to cup a cheek, thumb grazing over the etched-in designs on his bone, “and I forgive you.” She gave the smallest hint of a smile, her fatigued tone a bit teasing as she tried to lighten up the mood for both of their sakes.

Héctor turned his face to kiss her palm, eyes closing, “I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I know that she’ll be fine. I won’t let her see me.” He gave a dry chuckle and he glanced at her, “Like when we were kids. _¿Te acuerdas?_ ”

“I do,” she shook her head as her smile grew subtly. “You weren’t very good at it, though.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better after a hundred years,” the musician leaned in and pecked his wife’s lips. “I’ll be back.”

“Be careful.”

* * *

By the time Héctor reached the land of the living, there was still a mass of people at the cemetery. He was panicking, his adrenaline rushing through his dead body as he sprinted through the maze of the dead and the living. More than a few grumbles and curses flew his way as he made sure to scan every inch of the area that he could. A little more than a half hour later, he decided that his family wasn’t there. Now, he had to check on them. He had to see if they came and left, or hadn’t come at all. He sprinted to their home, prayers being muttered under his heavy breathing.

Closer to the Rivera home, he yelped when he nearly tripped over Dante. The dog barked at him, bonking his head into the skeletal knee and Héctor shoved him away.

“Not now, Dante,” he grouched. “I need to find Carmina.”

The spirit guide barked once more before running in front of him. He paused, looking back at the musician expectantly. It took a moment until Héctor realized that the canine was wanting him to follow. Héctor whispered his thanks and Dante led him through the street to their home, showing exactly where to go as he maneuvered around the living family members who were still feasting and celebrating without a care. Then, Dante stopped. It was Coco’s room before she passed. Now Carmina’s, Héctor gave a grateful sigh at the sight as he leaned against the doorframe.

Miguel was tucking his tired daughter under the covers, kissing her forehead as she struggled with keeping her eyes open. When Miguel pulled away, she grabbed hold of the sleeve of his shirt and he beamed a tender smile, sitting himself on the chair beside her bed. Héctor chuckled softly, as well, his chest filling with a beautiful warmth as he felt so proud simply watching Miguel interact with his daughter. Remembering his days back before his life was forcibly ended without warning.

“Papá,” the toddler murmured sleepily.

“What is it, _mija_?” the young man inquired softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes with a ginger smile.

“ _Música_ ,”she answered, tiny hand almost losing the will to keep its grasp on her father’s shirt. “ _Por favor_.”

“It’s _late_ , Carmina,” he warned, knowing full well she was about to lose her fight with her exhaustion any moment.

“ _Juanita, por favor_ ,” chubby cheeks bounced slightly as she spoke making Héctor’s insides warm.

Miguel chuckled, “Okay. I don’t have my guitar. Is it okay if I just sing it?” Carmina nodded, eyes fluttering open weakly. Inhaling, Miguel stroked his daughter’s cheek before gently holding her tiny hand.

_“Well, everyone knows Juanita  
Her eyes each a different color”_

Carmina’s head turned so her face was open to the doorway, giving Héctor a better view of his great-great-great-grandaughter’s peaceful expression.

_“Her teeth stick out and her chin goes in  
And her knuckles, they drag on the floor”_

Her eyes seemed to blink open when a sleepy giggle left her lips. She stared straight ahead, seemingly at Héctor and smiled seemingly at him. He held his breath, knowing that he shouldn’t let her see him, but he tried to relax when he figured she might think of him as some tired hallucination her young mind couldn’t explain. She didn’t seem frightened or startled and that was fine by him.

_“Her hair is like a briar  
She stands in a bow-legged stance”_

Carmina’s eyes finally closed in her losing battle with sleep. Héctor and Miguel ended up with warm smiles on their faces forming at the same time.

_“And if I weren't so ugly, she'd possibly give me a chance”_

Miguel sighed, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, “ _Feliz cumpleaños, mija_.”

After making sure she was tucked in, Miguel stood and – just noticing that Dante was sitting there happily – ushered the dog out as he closed the door. Héctor remained in the room, hearing his grandson’s voice subtly, “Is everyone having a good time tonight, Dante?” He was asking about the deceased Riveras and it made Héctor cringe with guilt. He sighed, turning and taking Miguel’s seat beside Carmina’s bed. He removed his hat, placing it in his lap as he finally felt the tension in his bones slip away.

Héctor watched over Carmina the rest of the night, not returning to the Land of the Dead until the absolute last minute the next morning. Next year, the Riveras would not skip out on the holiday.

**-**


	4. Good Girls and Secrets

“Oye, Miguel!”

Now twenty-four, the young father glanced over at where his name was hollered. He had been talking with his cousin Benny – now fifteen – about some footwork that Benny was trying to convince Manny on for a school project. He was almost surprised to see that it was his cousin Rosa’s new husband, Alberto; no one in the family dared to tease her on finding a man who had such a similar name to her father. The two men hadn’t spoken much to each other as Rosa had kept her courtship with Alberto very private and most of the family didn’t know they were even seeing each other until she brought up their engagement. The biggest surprise, however, was that Alberto was holding Carmina on his hip. Miguel had thought he left her with his mother and he scurried over after setting his drink down on the table.

“ _Corazoncita_ ,” Miguel swept his daughter from Alberto’s arms lovingly, her tiny pigtails bouncing as she was seated on her papá’s hip instead, “where did Abuelita go?”

Shyly, Carmina hid her face into Miguel’s shoulder, making Alberto laugh as he answered in her place, “Tía Luisa went inside. She thinks the night’s heat is getting to her so she went to sit and cool down.”

Miguel frowned somewhat, a little concerned, but he didn’t say anything, “ _Lo siento,_ I hope Carmina wasn’t a handful.”

“She wasn’t,” Alberto insisted. “She’s a good girl, but I was getting a little worried.” He gestured off to the nothingness on his left where there was just empty space and benches to sit on by the lights. “She was just staring and when I tried to talk to her I got _nada_.” He rubbed at his neck nervously, “I’m still not used to _niños_ , I guess.”

This made the young musician raise a brow at his cousin-in-law, then at his three year old daughter. “She doesn’t normally do that. _Mija_ ,” he kissed the back of her crown, “are you not feeling well? Here, lift your head up.” When Carmina shook her head, he sighed, “Carmina, head up.” Reluctant, the toddler did what was asked of her. Miguel pressed a palm to her forehead and shook his head, “You don’t feel warm.” He tried the back of his knuckles and sighed, “Carmina, is something wrong _mi cielito_?”

“I’m fine,” the little girl nearly huffed as her eyes looked back in the direction that Alberto had been pointing at just a moment ago.

Not convinced, Miguel looked over in the same direction as his mind tried to comprehend what his daughter was thinking. “Do you see something?” Carmina’s lips pursed at the question, her small face seeming perplexed and that worried her father further. “Carmina, _respóndeme_.”

“It’s…” she pointed in the direction, “Papá Héctor.”

Miguel blinked as his brain worked to help the words settle into his system. His mouth dropping open subtly before he asked, “Papá Héctor?”

Carmina nodded, not looking away while her small hand fell. Alberto noticed the way Miguel was uncomfortable with his daughter’s answer. He excused himself quickly, but the younger married fellow barely noticed as his entire world started to slow down and his focus was entirely on Carmina’s answer.

“You see him?” was the quiet question, almost like a secret being shared between the two.

“ _Sí_.”

Miguel was uncertain. He knew he shouldn’t disbelieve anything after all he went through when he was younger, but his chest clenched as he told himself not to get excited as his daughter could be misunderstanding something. He exhaled slowly, shoulders still tense as he inquired softly, “Does he look like the photo I showed you?”

Carmina shook her head, “Like _un_ _esqueleto_.”

Well, there was one hint. He pushed a little more, still gentle, “Then, how did you know it was him? Don’t all _esqueletos_ look the same?”

“Mamá Imelda said his name,” she fumbled with the last two syllables as her eyes decided to follow what Miguel’s couldn’t see.

“And, how did you know it was Mamá Imelda?”

“Papá Héctor said her name.”

Miguel sighed softly. He didn’t know if his daughter was really seeing what she claimed to be. He had heard stories about how infants and young children were closer to the cycle of life and death and could be prone to seeing the deceased and the like. Even with his own experience, he couldn’t pinpoint as to whether or not that’s what was happening or if she was simply pretending. Children this age loved to play pretend and some even had imaginary friends. Knowing that their deceased ancestors were supposed to be present during this holiday could have sparked her to believe that she had seen them, even as skeletons. He also didn’t want to disrespect his family by dismissing his daughter’s claim to see them.

He felt perplexed, but Carmina was consistent in her stare at nothingness. When she waved at the nothingness he couldn’t help but to smile softly, “Who are you waving to?”

“Tía Rosita,” she smiled as her wave increased with a flurry, “and Mamá Coco.”

“Do you play with them?” Miguel further inquired.

“Can I?” her large round eyes sparkled at her father as she beamed at the premise of playing with her family members.

Stomach flipping a little with nerves, Miguel’s nervous smile grew as he crouched to let her down. “Go on, _nena_.”

Carmina barely registered her father’s words before she scuttled across the courtyard to join her deceased family. Miguel stood up, hands on his hips as he exhaled slowly. He shook his head, trying to calm himself before walking back over to the rest of the family. Occasionally throwing his eyes over his shoulder to make sure that his daughter was fine.

“Is she talking to herself?”

Miguel glanced down and rolled his eyes to see it was his younger sister, Socorro. A light green shirt with a decent denim vest on her shoulders and white capris held up with a beaded rope belt. Her arms were crossed in front of her, her hair short with her bangs clipped back. Socorro was well-behaved as far as teenagers went; she was twelve, so technically not a teenager just yet. Still, a younger sister was a younger sister, and while nine year old Julieta was nearing the end of her pure angel phase Socorro was in the beginning of her mouthy opinionated phase. Miguel constantly had to remind himself that he wasn’t perfect at twelve. Far from it considering he stole a guitar and scared his family half to death with his disappearance that night.

“You shouldn’t be picking on your _sobrina_ like that, Coco,” Miguel nearly chastised his sister, but his tone was clearly more tired than he meant it to be. The emotional battle he was having within was taking too much bite out of his words.

“I’m not picking on her,” the tween replied somewhat defensively. “I’m making a concerned observation. _Mi sobrina_ seems to be acting strangely, I’m just making sure that’s the case.” She shrugged, “I don’t have as much experience with toddlers as you do.”

It was true. Coco was one of the youngest members of the family, and those born after her were when she was a toddler herself. Miguel found himself releasing a heavy exhale. He accepted his sister’s explanation, but it didn’t help his earlier worries. Was Carmina really seeing the deceased, or making it up? Was what he said earlier mostly to help himself feel better? He peeked at her direction once again. Carmina was babbling to the air. His ears picking up something along the lines of how she enjoyed dancing and drawing, telling whoever was listening about how she spent her days.

A part of Miguel was smiling. He was glad that she was being so sociable as she was usually too shy to speak with strangers. Maybe since she recognized “them” as family she didn’t have a problem with opening up. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry about it. If it was just tonight, it might be a fluke. This could just be a new game she’s trying and maybe she’ll tire of it in the morning. He decided to let her be.

Miguel kept his distance while keeping an eye on her. He’d discuss it later with Elvita; definitely before bed at the very latest.

“Carmina,” Héctor crouched down in front of his granddaughter now that the living weren’t near; Coco and Rosita were nearby as the patriarch had slipped in to try to reason with the three year old. “ _Bebé_ , you have to listen to Papá Héctor, _sí_?” He nodded to prompt her to do the same and she quickly did, making him smile. “ _Buena niña_. Now, there’s two rules we’re going to have to follow if you want us to play with you. The first is that we’re not going to be talking when other people are around, got it?” Carmina nodded once more, and a part of Héctor told him that she probably would forget soon after this conversation. There was always hope, though. “And, the other rule is the most important rule. You absolutely cannot tell anyone about us, okay?” When the little girl gave a confused and almost disgruntled expression, he was quick to add, “It’ll be our secret, _sí_? A fun little game between you and us. Since they can’t see or hear us. It’ll be fun, _lo prometo_.”

It took a moment. Carmina almost seemed…skeptical? Could a toddler seem skeptical? It almost made Héctor nervous, but soon a small hand went out and a single pinky rose from her fist. Héctor smiled as she said nothing and slipped his own lesser digit around hers the best he could. He felt his vertebrae tingle at the emotional excitement of physically connecting with a living family member once more. Despite his fingers being bone and his nerves gone, he could still feel how soft and warm her young hand was and it filled him with an adoring and protective instinct.

Satisfied with the return of her gesture, Carmina was beaming and soon giggling. Héctor returned it with his own chuckle before placing a finger over his lips and shushing the girl softly. Youthful cheeks red, the bubbly being copied her grandfather’s sign of silence while spitting out a soft, “Shhh.”

And, so, Carmina’s first year with a secret began.

**\- To Be Continued**


End file.
